


Missing You

by eternityforflesh



Series: Dancing in the Dark [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron keeps telling himself that he isn't missing Starscream in the months after their whirlwind week of drinking, dancing, and romancing in Kaon...no matter what his friends say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none. Just broken sparks and a cheezy '80s song running through your head.
> 
> Inspired by John Waite's song, “Missing You.”  
> For your reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9e157Ner90

     In the months after his leave in Kaon, Megatron tried to keep himself distracted. Finding something to do in the mines at outpost C-12 was easy, especially during his shift. He plowed through the rock beneath the surface with a fury that surprised himself, working his frame to exhaustion nearly every shift. It was easy not to think of Starscream then, but that didn't mean that such thoughts didn't happen. And that didn't mean that his one day off wasn't spent lost in memories of his few blissful nights in the Seeker's company.

     The Crown Prince of Vos, not just a Seeker, he had to remind himself forcefully. The heir to and one day ruler of one of the most powerful city-states on their home world, who had been slumming in Kaon when Megatron met him; who didn't give a slag about Megatron; who was the most amazing mech the miner had ever met.

     When he thought of the Seeker in his down time, and sometimes during his shifts, his vents always caught. If he was down in the mines, he'd just strike that much harder with his pick. As if he could smash and cleave away the hurt frozen in his spark just as easily as he separated energon crystals from the dark rock.

     He'd tell himself that he didn't miss Starscream. Sometimes he believed it. Impactor didn't though. His friend just watched him quietly from his bunk in their barracks, or from the opposite side of the table at the cafeteria, having borne the brunt of Megatron's frustrated rage in that first week after returning from Kaon.

     Both mechs had taken to sulking which didn't bode well for the other miners on their dig team or in their barracks. Most steered clear of the orange and silver mechs, not knowing what had happened between the them on their leave. They decided it was best to not find out.

     So Megatron didn't have as much distraction on his schedule as he would have liked. He and Impactor were not speaking, none of the other miners were speaking to them; he was alone with his thoughts whether he wanted it or not.

     The big mech did try to spend less time alone, even if the shunning was mutual, and decided to spend a few hours on his day off in his barracks' rec room to catch broadcasts from Cybertron. The first visit had been a rude surprise as his teammates had been watching a celebrity gossip show. Of all mechs, Starscream had been featured in a segment on his search for a consort.

     Megatron's hands had crumpled the edge of the table where he was seated, and Impactor had mysteriously appeared to press his own huge hand to the table as Megatron tensed to flip it halfway across the room. Narrowed, furious optics had met steady, unflinching optics and held them until the orange had gently shaken his head.

     Shoving back from the table and his friend, the scream of metal on metal under Megatron's weight disturbing the crowd of mechs, the silver miner had stormed out of the room.

     But he returned on his next day off to catch the show. He told himself it was just entertainment and that he wasn't missing Starscream at all, but his spark trembled with a frail hope that the Seeker might make an appearance on the screen.

     Despite that tiny hope, he still stormed out of the rec room a few times. Clips of Starscream laughing surrounded by other beautiful fliers, Starscream dancing at formal balls, Starscream delivering outrageous soundbites like a wealthy, reckless royal should all sent him thundering down the corridors until his anger had simmered to a brooding hurt.

     One afternoon, he actually caught himself smiling at one of the Seeker's quips. Megatron was entranced once again. The rakish smile, the effortless grace, the arrogance he exuded; they all suited the Seeker so perfectly. And his Seeker suited him so perfectly.

     The miner remembered how perfectly his brightly-colored frame fit against his own. How they had danced so perfectly in sync with each other. How every touch, every look had made him feel so alive.

     But in Starscream's world, Megatron had no meaning. That dawning realization dampened his brightening mood. A lowly miner such as himself could never hope to court and win the spark of a prince. His mood positively tanked.

     He didn't miss the Seeker. Not at all. Not one bit. It was a foolish thing to do, and Megatron was no fool.

     Jerking up from his seat, it crashed back to the floor and brought the entire room's focus on him. Megatron held his head up high, ignoring the looks he got as he marched from the rec room.

     Heavy pedefalls followed him down the corridor, and Megatron marched that much faster. Other miners looked up to see the two huge mechs thundering toward them and veered down other hallways or just pressed themselves to the walls, attempting to define _unobtrusive_ with every strut and cable in their frames.

     A hand caught Megatron's arm. “You can't keep doing this.” He spun to face an angered Impactor, and shrugged off his hand.

     “I'm walking to my bunk,” the silver miner replied, his tone heavy with warning. “You have a problem with that?”

     “Don't hit me with that slag.” Impactor's voice rumbled with exasperation. “The Seeker from Kaon. The prince.”

     “Don't talk about him.”

     “That's what I'm talking about.”

     Megatron pulled back, plating bunching aggressively.

     “You haven't been the same since leave. You're driving yourself crazy over that flier.”

     “I said–”

     “And _I_ said you can't keep doing this.”

     “Not here, Impactor,” Megatron sighed. He turned, and his friend followed him to a less populated sector of their barracks complex. At last, Megatron stopped in an empty corridor, the sounds of other mechs muffled in the distance. “So, talk.”

     Impactor raised his hand as if to reach for his friend, then let it drop to his side. “You miss him.”

     “I do not.”

     “You can lie to yourself, but not to me, mech. You miss him,” the orange miner repeated.

     “I do not.”

     “Megatron–“

     “It doesn't matter what you say.” Megatron's face settled into stubborn lines. “I'm not missing him at all.”

     His friend looked down and away, drawing in a deep vent. He looked up as a ping hit Megatron's message queue, his optics flaring.

     “I don't care what you do with that, but for frag's sake, get yourself together. You're a mess.” Impactor turned and began walking away.

     The message was from Impactor, and when Megatron opened it, there was just a series of digits. A comm line code.

     “Whose is this,” he called down the corridor to the retreating orange frame.

     “Its _his_.”

     Megatron's façade of disinterest crashed down around him like a cave-in. He gawped as the ten digits scrolled across his visual feed, his vents and spark racing. He stared dumbly at where Impactor had disappeared around a bend in the corridor. Not knowing whether to chase after the mech and hit him or thank him for this additional complication to his life, Megatron just stood there.

     If he could have seen himself, standing motionless while his emotions raged across his face, mirroring the storm in his spark, he would have laughed; the Slagmaker reduced to near-stasis by indecision.

     The silver mech's frame ground into motion as he forced himself to walk back to his bunk. Starscream's comm line code spun through his mind until it felt like a caress to his circuits. As his steps steadied and felt more sure, he pushed the code away.

     He didn't miss Starscream.

     He'd purge the code at the next available chance. And then he'd go put a fist in Impactor's meddling face.

     The next week found Megatron in the rec room, sitting in front of the screen, hoping for an update on Starscream. Sure enough, one of the hottest stories on Cybertron was about the Seeker.

     Leaning toward the screen despite himself, the big mech studied Starscream's image.

     The way he danced was so stilted. The Seeker had bumped and ground, and bounced and whirled in Kaon. The red dancer in the clip was not the Starscream Megatron had known. This red dancer bowed prettily, and clasped hands primly with his partner, and followed what seemed to be a formal choreography. In fact, the entire floor of dancers was engaged in the same dance steps. It was beautiful, but so tame and so stiff.

     It was no wonder Starscream had wanted to get away from that.

     The way the prince smiled in his post-party interview looked so forced. And his joking with the reporter and camera crew sounded so rehearsed, his bitter tone not at all matching his trademark dashing smirk.

     Megatron retrieved the prince's comm line code, which he had neglected to purge from his databank as he had sworn to do. He drew it through his mind with the same relish with which he had stroked his fingers over the Seeker's wings.

     Starscream's wings. The miner recognized that tilt as the interview ended. They weren't fanned high and wide with excitement, but slanted harshly in irritation.

     He didn't miss the jet, but maybe the jet missed him.

     There was no settling the turbulence in Megatron's spark after that. He took his evening refuel, read a bit in his current datapad, stared blankly at the ceiling from his bunk in the barracks, Starscream's comm line code streaming through his mind over and over.

     Desperation clawed at him like a living thing, and he felt as if his plating should be furrowed and torn, the intensity of the feeling overwhelming his frame.

     He struggled through composing several brief messages, shutting them all down after telling himself that he didn't miss Starscream, and that Starscream did not miss him. It was a foolish thought that had him imagining the Seeker's optics were searching for his through the screen in the rec room.

     Lights out came, and Megatron turned onto his side, facing away from the now darkened room. The ache in his broken spark ratcheted up until he bit his lip to stifle a cry. He was losing the fight against his own curiosity and desire.

     Deciding he had to chance it, and acting before he could shake himself out of it again, Megatron attached a ping to Starscream's comm line code and slotted the query into his outgoing queue.

     Vos was so very far away, so he tapped into the outpost's long-range comm channel to boost his transmission. Megatron considering adding a few glyphs of regret and longing to his ping, but dismissed the idea quickly. If he couldn't bridge the distance to his Seeker and calm the tempest in his core that night, then Megatron told himself he'd stop missing him for good.

     The miner selected _Send_ and offlined his optics as the message vanished from his queue. He told himself he wasn't going to wait for a pingback because Starscream would never reply. Never, ever. _Ever_.

     Alone on his bunk in the dark, Megatron hoped and waited.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As for my descriptions of how the stiff wings in Vos dance at these formal balls, the following is how I imagine it:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lpgesehOjI
> 
> I'd totally run away if I had to dance like that at all the parties even if I was the guest of honor.


End file.
